


Masquerade

by margoteve



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel), the arcana
Genre: 2nd person POV, F/M, Portia is helping get the party going, is it paint play or food play if you can eat the paint??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 17:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15562446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margoteve/pseuds/margoteve
Summary: We've seen how Julian, Asra and Nadia's Masquerade routes went. But how about Consul Valerius? The Apprentice and Valerius explore the palace during the event and have some of their own fun.





	Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maybeawriter6](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybeawriter6/gifts).



Masquerade! The entirety of Vesuvia seems to have poured into the palace. Suddenly the quiet corridors are bustling with crowds and you aren’t sure if you like that. Of course, you are excited for the ball and the experience but being bumped into every minute or two by hurrying citizens isn’t exactly fun. 

“Sorry!” You huff rather than apologizing as you almost stumble backwards after one more party-goer run in. 

Parties aren’t exactly fun when you are alone. You hoped to have company but it seems your company has been swallowed by the stampede of costumed people. Maybe you should give it one more look through the rooms and try to find anyone. Nadia or Julian, even Asra… Only there are so many of these rooms, each filled with new entertainment. You saw the bubble room, the mysterious food one… all seems like good fun if you had someone to enjoy it with.

Suddenly you feel a hand rest on your shoulder, catching you. “I see you do not need me to make an absolute clutz out of yourself.” You recognize that cold, snarky murmur in your ear.

You turn around, squinting annoyed at Valerius. “I thought you drowned in your wine cellar.”

He stands before you, his usual clothes replaced with white robes with golden embellishments. On his face is an ivory mask with golden horns, and a gem sitting on his forehead. His cravat is pinned with a green gem. You almost think he looks very handsome. “Wishful thinking, witch?” He narrows his eyes as well. 

“Maybe.”

“I’m glad I disappointed you then,” he smirks. 

You roll your eyes at him, not granting him an answer to that. You stand together by the wall, watching the crowds pass by. It’s like a day at the market, people going all different directions. 

“It’s like an animal convention in here,” he sneers, really missing his wine.

“Said the guy with ram’s head for a mask,” you snort as you point it out, which earns you a scornful look, which you ignore.

“Wow, I didn't know the palace has commissioned new statues!” You turn your head to giggling Portia who watches you amused. 

You give her a wide smile. “I’m trying to see if I could earn something by being a live-statue in the market!” you joke. 

Valerius scowls at her, ready to chastise the maid but Portia gives him the look of absolute innocence before she grabs your arm pulling you in the direction of the ballroom. “Practice later, you need to dance! It's Masquerade!” 

You laugh, totally agreeing with her and you shoot Valerius a challenging look over your shoulder. It's a dare. Will he follow? 

Annoyed, with himself or maybe with you, definitely with you, how could he blame himself?; He follows. 

Portia leaves you at the entrance to the ballroom and winks at you giving Valerius a look. He better behaves himself. 

“Impudent maid,” he sneers. 

You jab him in the ribs. “She’s my friend, Consul,” you scold him. 

“Of course you’d be friends with servants,” he huffs and offers you his arm. “I will show you how nobility plays, shall we?” 

“Oh I know how  _ you  _ like to play,” you tease him. Effectively as his cheeks redden. But you take his arm and let him lead you to the dance floor. 

There he places his hand on your waist gently and takes your hand in his. The music begins softly and you start moving together. He is skilled, you have to admit it. You feel light, like a feather, as he takes you across the ballroom. His posture firm and you feel his strength through his hand on your waist. You watch his face, curious. You see his eyes shift to you and your gaze holds. It's almost like a dream. The music has enchanted you both. The masks giving you new identities. No longer Consul and Apprentice but two beings joined by the flow. It takes you both a moment to realize the music has stopped. He clears his throat and lets go of you taking a courteous bow, customary after the dance. 

You return the gesture, remembering the proper behaviours. 

“You’re a good dancer, Consul,” you compliment him, trying to get anything out of your mouth. 

“And you are… an adequate partner,” he replies, not looking at you but still holding your hand. 

You give him an unamused look. Would it kill him to give you a compliment? You start to think it would. Still, you are glad for the dance lesson Nadia’s sister gave you. On the other hand, maybe stepping on his toes would teach him a lesson, or give him ammo to criticize you. Hmmm… 

“I want to see other rooms, let’s go,” you grab him by his wrist and lead him back to the corridors. 

The two of you make your way through the rooms, watching amazing shows and trying the delicious food and drinks. Valerius of course always gravitates towards the alcohols, tasting the wines but skipping punches as they apparently were below his standards. 

Then you find the last room of the wing you are currently in. The room is shrouded in shadows with only the party-goers serving as any source of ‘light’. You try to see what is going on there. Spotting one couple, your cheeks heat up. Around the room, there are bowls with edible, fluorescent paint. People were using it to paint one another and lick the trail off of their partner’s skin. The air is heavy with some sort of esoteric scent. It gets to your head. 

You look at Valerius with new ideas blooming in your head. He seems to be reading your mind. Together you walk into the room. Valerius takes off his white jacket. Magical cleaning service at the door or not, this was expensive cashmere. Underneath he has a vest, exposing his arms and a bit of chest. You can't help but steal a glance at his arms. Someone who drinks as much wine as he was had no business to have arms like that. 

At the paint table, you take one of the containers and sniff it curiously. The fragrance is light lavender. Sweet. You dip your fingers into it and the thick, neon green liquid sticks to them. Valerius watches you inspecting another container with white paint. Suddenly he tilts the bottle over your shoulder and liquid pours down your arm and shoulder a bit over your chest. 

“Whoops, my hand slipped,” he says with a knowing smirk and challenge in his eyes. The bastard knew what he was doing. You don't make him wait. 

You grab the front of his vest and pull him down. “You have ruined my clothes Consul,” you sneer. “I expect you to clean them.” Your voice drops to a purr as you say: “With your tongue.”

He shivers then leans down. Starting with your shoulder, you feel and watch as he licks a path up. Slowly. His eyes are on you as he cleans your skin, stripe after stripe. Then he moves up front, to your chest. Drops his head to the low cut of your neckline. 

It’s your turn to shiver as the tips of his tongue traces shapes over the exposed parts of your chest. Up, up. He seems to be taking even more time there. Your breathing hitches as you try to calm down. There are goosebumps on your skin and your throat feels dry when he finally reaches your collarbone and promptly sucks in the last bits of pain from your skin. 

You sigh and clear your throat, licking your lips. “Well, Consul I think that could have been done better. I think I will have to mark you for your unruly action.”

“Should I be concerned, witch?” he raised his eyebrow at you, his face flushed and he shifted a little on his feet. 

“As you said, I am a witch, any mark from me should concern you,” you say as you dip your fingers in paint. “Now stand still.”

You start at his neck, light brushes of your fingers trace down his throat, jugular and collarbone. Your lines and swirls over his skin create an intricate picture of a sigil. It shines brightly in darkness in bright green. His breathing is erratic as you are done. 

“Now for the finishing touch,” you grab his braid and pull him to one of the comfortable, plush benches, pushing him to sit down. Now the little problem in his pants is a little bit more visible and you smirk. 

In reverse, you start licking the paint off of him starting where you finished. Working your way up. You can feel his fast heartbeat and you feel a bit victorious. You straddle his hips as you reach his neck, dragging your tongue over his throat and pulse. You move your hips a little and you can feel his hands grabbing onto them, a strained badly surpassed moan in your ear. 

“Let’s move this somewhere more private,” you whisper in his ear. 

He obeys. There's heat in his bones and eyes. The two of you leave the room and head to your pałace quarters. When the firework show starts no one hears the deep moans coming from your room. Only Valerius had a bit of problem walking next day. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *blows a kiss to May * You're welcome :P
> 
> If you guys like it, give it a kudo and a comment :) I really like it, also you can check my tumblr: margoteve to see which other fandoms I write for :)


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